A sunbeam on its features fell,

As if to bear tbe world's farewell;

And doubt was o'er—his heart grew chill—

Twas she—though changed—'twas Ella still!

Though now her once-rejoicing mien,

Was deeply, mournfully serene;

Though clouds her eye's blue lustre shaded,

And the young cheek beneath had faded,

Well, well he knew the form, which cast

Light on his soul through all the past!

'Twas with him on the battle plain,

'Twas with him on the stormy main,

'Twas in his visions, when the shield

Pillow'd his head on tented field;

'Twas a bright beam that led him on

Where'er a triumph might be won,

In danger as in glory nigh,

An angel-guide to victory!

She caught his pale bewilder'd gaze
Of grief half lost in fix'd amaze—
Was it some vain illusion, wrought
By frenzy of impassion'd thought?
Some phantom, such as Grief hath power
To summon, in her wandering hour?
No! it was he! the lost, the mourn'd,
Too deeply loved, too late return'd!

A fever'd blush, a sudden start,
Spoke the last weakness of her heart,
'Twas vanquish'd soon—the hectic red
A moment fhish'd her cheek, and fled.

Once more serene—her steadfast eye
Look'd up as to Eternity;
Then gaz'd on Ulric with an air,
That said—the home of Love is there!

Yes! there alone it smiled for him,
Whose eye hefore that look grew dim;
Not long 'twas his e'en thus to view
The beauty of its calm adieu;
Soon o'er those features, brightly pale,
Was cast th' impenetrable veil;
And, if one human sigh were given
By the pure bosom vow'd to Heaven,
'Twas lost, as many a murmur'd sound
Of grief, "not loud, but deep," is drown'cL
In hymns of joy, which proudly rise,
To tell the calm untroubled skies,
That earth hath banish'd care and woe*
And man holds festivals below!

NOTES.

Note 1, page 69, line 22.

The original of the scene here described is presented by the mountain called the Feldberg, in the Bergstrasse:—"Des masses énormes de rochers, entassées Tune sur l'autre depuis le sommet de la montagne jusqu'à son pied, Tiennent y présenter un aspect superbe qu' aucune description ne saurait rendre. Ce furent, dit-on, des géans, qui en se livrant un combat du haut des montagnes, lancèrent les uns sur les autres ces énormes masses de rochers. On arrive, avec beaucoup de peine, jusqu'au sommet du Feldberg, en suivant un sentier qui passe à côté de cette chaine de rochers. On entend continuellement un bruit sourd, qui parait venir d'un ruisseau au dessous des rochers; mais on a beau decendre, en se glissant à travers les ouvertures qui s'y trouvent, on ne découvrira jamais le ruisseau. La colonne, dite Riesensaule, se trouve un peu plus haut qu'à la moitié de la montagne,- c'est un bloc de granit taillé, d'une longueur de 30 pieds et d'un diamètre de 4 pieds. Il y a plus de probabilité de croire que les anciens Germains voulaient faire de ce bloc une colonne pour l'ériger en l'honneur de leur dieu Odin, que de prétendre, comme le fort plusieurs auteurs, que les Romains aient eu le dessein de la transporter dans leur capitale. On voit un peu plus haut un autre bloc d'une forme presque carrée, qu' on appelle Riesenaltar (autel du géant) qui, à en juger par sa grosseur et sa forme, était destiné à servir de piédestal à la colonne susdite." -"Manuelpour les Voyageurs sur le Rhin*

Note 2, page 77, line 28.

Minnesingers (bards of love), the appellation of the German minstrels in the Middle Ages.

SUPERSTITION AND REVELATION,

AN UNFINISHED POEM.

I.

Beings of brighter worlds! that rise at times
As phantoms, with ideal beauty fraught,
In those brief visions of celestial climes,
Which pass, like sunbeams, o'er the realms of thought,
Dwell ye around us ?—are ye hovering nigh,
Throned on the cloud, or buoyant in the air?
And in deep solitudes, where human eye
Can trace no step, Immortals! are ye there?
Oh ! who can tell ?—what power, but Death alone
Can lift the mystic veil that shades the world un-
known?

n.

But Earth hath seen the days, ere yet the flowers
Of Eden wither'd, when reveal'd ye shone,
In all your brightness, 'midst those holy bowers—
Holy, but not unfading, as your own 3
While He, the child of that primeval soil.
With you its paths in high communion trode,
His glory yet undimm'd by guilt or toil,
And beaming in the image of his God.

And his pure spirit glowing from the sky,
Exulting in its light, a spark of Deity.

ra.

Then, haply, mortal and celestial lays,
Mingling their tones, from Nature's temple rose,
When nought but that majestic song of praise
Broke on the sanctity of night's repose,
With music since unheard: and man might trace,
By stream and vale, in deep embow'ring shade,
Devotion's first and loveliest dwelling-place,
The footsteps of th' Omnipotent, who made
That spot a shrine, where youthful nature cast
Her consecrated wealth, rejoicing as He pass'd.

IV.

Short were those days, and soon, O sons of Heaven!
Your aspect changed for man; in that dread hour,
When from his paradise the alien driven,
Beheld your forms in angry splendour tower,
Guarding the clime where he no more might dwell,
With meteorrswords: he saw the living flame,
And his first cry of misery was—" Farewell!''
His heart's first anguish, exile : he became
A pilgrim on the earth, whose children's lot
Is still for happier lands to pine—and reach them not.

v.

Where now the chosen bowers that once beheld Delight and Love their first bright Sabbath keep? From all its founts the world of waters swell'd, ,And wrapt them in the mantle of the deep!